Brooklynese
by Syrinx
Summary: Two girls talk. OC, sequel to Star Quality.


Brooklynese  
By Syrinx  
Summary: Two girls talk.  
Disclaimer: All rights to the Thoroughbred series belong to Joanna Campbell and Harper Collins.  
A/N: Original character, Cindy Series, sequel to Star Quality.

There's a scorched breeze coming in through the windows. I can feel the heat pooling and rising through the air, slipping up through my humidity dampened hair to mill at the ceiling. I don't particularly care. Let it mill. There are cars etching ruts in the summer-softened blacktop, oil shimmering in stretches through Brooklyn and rainbows rippling through exhaust. Outside is a heat producing machine, and inside feels like a haven no matter the unbearable feeling of summer in New York.

"You need a ceiling fan," Cindy mentions, stretching out on the sofa while I sit in the arm chair and paint my toenails pink. "Oh! Or how about really big black trash bags. We can string them up over the windows to keep the sun out."

"God, no," I answer, reapplying more paint. "Can you imagine living with trash bags on the windows? This isn't a society out of Mad Max."

"Saw some people down the street doing it," Cindy replies. "Looked like a good idea."

"Only you, Cin." I reply.

"Yeah, me and the people down the street," Cindy bit back with a smile.

I sigh and shrug, putting the brush back in the tiny glass bottle. I wiggle my toes a minute, letting the paint dry even though in this air it doesn't seem like anything could dry. Things can only melt during summers in New York. Loudly I hear the rush of a fire hydrant gushing water out onto the street below, the screams of kids accompanying it. I want to stick my head out the window and yell at them to enjoy it while they can.

Cindy winces as she sits up and pads over the warm wood floors.

"Bosta?" I ask.

"It's generally a given now, right?" Cindy asks back. I nod. The wild bay filly had won the last leg of the Triple Tiara only a week ago, beating Res Mira by a nose after finishing a well-beaten third in the Mother Goose. Res Mira had been shipped out of Belmont a few days ago, and Bosta had begun training toward the Distaff, marking her work by tossing Cindy over the rail.

"Too bad Jack wasn't here to see that one," Cindy frowns, turning the oscillating fan her way and basking in the artificial breeze. I frown at the lack of air, already feeling the stifling heat encroaching on me.

"Cin," I sigh. "The fan."

"Oh, sorry," Cindy says, turning it back and going into the kitchen to open the fridge. I can hear ice cubes clinking together.

"Where is Jack, anyway?" I ask. "He sort of disappeared after the race."

"California," Cindy replies, and all at once I don't want to talk about it anymore. "He told Lucas he needed to get away for a while," Cindy sighs, pouring water into her glass from the tap. "Whatever that means."

It never ceases to amaze me how she doesn't understand what she's saying, but I keep my mouth shut. All I'm thinking now revolves around Ryan. Ryan and California starting a new life together without a second thought. It almost makes me want to throw up.

I don't think about Ryan anymore. He doesn't call, I don't call. Not anymore. Well, that's not entirely true. He does call. I just don't know yet if I'm ready to talk without generating into a yelling match.

"He means he's tired," I tell Cindy. "I think we're all a little tired right now."

"He's not tired," Cindy scoffs, drinking her water as she walked back to the sofa and flicked on the TV, starting to roll through the channels. "He's probably just getting back together with Audrey or something."

I laugh long and hard about that. Cindy gives me a perturbed look and I smile at her when I'm nearly done getting over it.

"Seriously, Cindy," I tell her. "Just shut up."

"What?" Cindy asks, almost sounding offended.

"Really," I say. "If you think that's happening you're out of your mind."

"It could be happening," Cindy defends. "Logically."

"No. Illogically," I tell her flat out. "It's not possible in the real world."

"Fine," Cindy pouts. "I'm just afraid he may have gone out there because he wanted to get away from me or something."

"You're delusional," I tell her.

"Honestly," she says, and I halfway believe her only because of what she's told me. I know everything. And I know all the things she hasn't told me. Sometimes it pays off to date people like Ryan. You wind up with a wealth of information you can never share, but only harbor to hold over other people's heads. I don't do that with Cindy, but I could.

"Okay," I say, sitting up. "He went to visit his parents," I tell her. "Ryan called a few days ago and I asked."

"Oh," Cindy says, putting her glass of water down. "Okay."

That seems to end the conversation and I smile a little, glad to know what she doesn't realize yet. Or refuses to realize considering both she and Jack seem to have a complex about taking a jump into the deep end of the pool. Ryan and I were nothing similar to that. The deep end was where we practically lived. Sure, every once and a while one of us would demand to get out, but eventually we'd jump back in again. Right now I'm wondering if that's even possible at this point.

"How is Ryan?" Cindy asks.

"Same old," I answer. "Seems to like California."

Cindy's quiet. Whenever she brings up Ryan I'm quick and to the point. She doesn't bring him up often, and I enjoy that. I don't want to talk about it. I could go forever listening to her talk about her own life as long as I don't have to hear about what was mine.

We're quiet then, seemingly content but not. That's how it will be until one of us musters up with courage to take a leap. That won't happen soon. It may never happen, and Brooklyn will continue to roar underneath our windows.

"Hey, let's go out tonight," Cindy declares. "We don't need them to go out."

"I like the way you think," I say, breaking out of my stupor of trying to forget Ryan's existence.

"Thank you," Cindy laughs, bright again.

"Ten o'clock?" she asks.

I nod.

"Ten."


End file.
